


All My Friends are Superheroes

by Essie_Cat



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Danny Mahealani & Jackson Whittemore Friendship, Danny Mahealani Knows, Danny is so done, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Jackson isn't a total asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25823614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Essie_Cat/pseuds/Essie_Cat
Summary: Jackson (indignant, in London) calls Danny (hungover, in San Francisco) to discuss the worst-kept secret in Beacon Hills."Yeah, Jackson, I know you’ve got claws and fangs and whatever. You and half the guys in our high school. What’s your point?"
Relationships: Danny Mahealani & Jackson Whittemore, Ethan/Jackson Whittemore
Comments: 2
Kudos: 59





	All My Friends are Superheroes

As his phone almost vibrates itself off the bedside table, Danny nearly falls out of bed in his efforts to grab it. He twists, the blankets wrapped around him like vines, the phone still roaring against the cheap imitation wood.

It’s possible he’s still half-drunk. The lacrosse guys really know how to throw a party. College is _fun_. 

In other news, bears shit in the woods and there’s a chance the Pope’s a Catholic.

Danny squints at the square of light in his hands, eye-wateringly bright. The words _English Muffin_ stare back at him, imposed on a photo of a very good-looking guy with impeccable bone structure, a bright green wig and his tongue sticking out at the camera. Danny had quickly saved this particular gem from Jackson’s Facebook before he noticed, hastily untagged himself and presumably murdered the person who had posted it.

It may be the only unflattering photograph of Jackson Whittemore in the universe, and it’s Danny’s duty to preserve it. For posterity.

His phone is still screaming at him, so he accepts the call and grunts ‘Yeah?’ in the vague direction of the mouthpiece. 

‘Fourteen months!’ Jackson bellows down the phone. ‘Are you _serious_ , Danny?’

‘Dude. What the hell? Do you know what time it is?’

Jackson always forgets about the time difference. Or he remembers and just ignores it, because he’s fucking Jackson.

‘You’ve known for a _whole goddamn year_. And I’ve been making an idiot of myself trying to hide it from you, you twat.’

Jackson peppers his speech with British curses, sometimes, which is a hilarious affectation. He probably thinks it makes him sound cultured. 

If he brings out his fake British accent, Danny’s hanging up.

‘Did you miss the part about it being 5:30? That’s _a.m.’_

‘You know that I’m…’ Jackson goes silent down the line. 

‘Bi?’ Danny supplies. They’ve already had this conversation. Jackson had been very cute and acted as though it was a huge reveal. 

‘ _Different,’_ Jackson finishes.

‘Yeah, yeah, you’re different, you’re special. Jesus. This is what you woke me up for?’

‘You know that I’m a…’

‘A jerk? That’s not a secret.’

‘I’m know I’m a fucking _werewolf_ ,’ Jackson practically snarls down the phone.

Danny almost feels sorry for the guy. Or he would, if Jackson wasn’t insisting on being all pointlessly dramatic at this ungodly hour of the morning.

‘Oh, yeah. That. What’s your point?’

‘My point –’ Jackson blusters. ‘My _point_ is –’

Danny grew up in Beacon Hills. He’s pretty sure every guy he ever played lacrosse with had some sort of superpower. Their classmates and teachers were being killed or kidnapped every other week. It’s kind of insulting, honestly, that Jackson thinks he wouldn’t have noticed.

‘My point is that I’ve been trying not to tell you about this for months. I was trying to _protect_ you.’

‘How gallant. My knight in shining armour.’

‘This isn’t funny, asshole.’

‘It’s pretty funny. Yeah, Jackson, I know you’ve got claws and fangs and whatever. You and half the guys in Beacon Hills.’

‘I’ve got a tail, too,’ Jackson says, weirdly defensive.

‘Oh. Okay?’

‘Part kanima.’

‘Um. Good for you, man.’ There’s another weird search for Danny to add to his internet browsing history. ‘So how’d you finally realise that I know?’ 

There’s an odd pause. Danny wonders if Jackson’s trying to think up a lie. Or steeling himself to tell the truth. 

Danny prompts, ‘Ethan told you.’

‘Yeah.’

Is that _uncertainty_ in Jackson’s voice? Uncertainty in the voice of _Jackson Whittemore?_ Because apparently he thinks Danny is oblivious to absolutely everything, not just the supernatural. 

‘There’s something I should say,’ Jackson continues. ‘About Ethan.’

‘You two are fucking.’

‘I was gonna say dating.’ Jackson sounds indignant. ‘But we’re doing that too.’

Danny’s been waiting for this ever since Jackson ever-so-casually slipped into conversation that Ethan just happened to be in London and yeah, they’d hung out, and yeah, he’d asked after Danny and Jackson had made a point of saying how _really great_ Danny was doing at UC Berkeley, because that’s what bros do. 

And then Jackson had come out to Danny over the phone, breezy and defensive and nervous all at once, and Danny had considered the matter as good as done. They’re both cute, single werewolves living it up across the pond. It would be weirder if something _hadn’t_ happened.

‘Okay.’

‘Okay?’ Jackson repeats. ‘What does that mean?’

‘It means _okay,_ Jackson.’

‘I won’t. If you – y’know. You two were together. I’m not a complete asshole. I … Fuck. If you don’t want me to see Ethan again, I won’t.’

‘You’re two American werewolves in London. I’m sure you’ll run into each other occasionally. Do you have full moon parties, is that a thing?’

‘Christ, Danny, you know what I mean.’

‘You won’t fuck him again? Or – what do the British say? Shag?’

‘ _Danny_ –’

‘ _Jackson._ Relax. I don’t care, dude. Me and Ethan are good. We still talk. I bet you guys are really good together.’

‘Okay. Well. Great.’ Jackson seems unsure where to go from here. ‘So … how’s college?’ 

‘No way. We are not gonna make _small talk_ now. I have class in three hours. Maybe I can get some more sleep before then. Are you done with all your revelations? Spilled all your big secrets?’

He can practically hear Jackson scowling from five thousand miles away. 

‘Great. Goodbye, Whittemore.’

‘Sleep tight, wanker.’

Danny manages to snatch another hour or so of sleep. He spends most of the morning trying to cure his hangover with gallons of water and bucketloads of carbs. He tries not to lose his shit with three separate groups of freshmen who are chatting loudly in the library while he’s trying to study. He flirts – tastefully – with the pretty Swedish guy in his favourite coffeeshop, and he’s _sure_ the guy gives him extra syrup in his latte. 

In other words, he has a beautifully normal, non-supernatural day, like every other day has been since he left Beacon Hills. And he couldn’t be happier about it.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic is pinched from Andrew Kaufman's novella of the same name.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
